Mothers and Daughters
by the-pumpkin-king93
Summary: The sisterhood lives on when Carmen, Bridget, Tibby, and Lena’s daughters form their own pact, and create their own sisterhood. The saga continues in a new generation when their daughters, the Augusts, turn 16...
1. Prologue

Here it is, my first story. It might come a little slow, but that means I'm trying, really hard! **Full Summary: **The original Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants--Carmen, Bridget, Lena, and Tibby--are all married and have daughters: Beautifully blonde Carson Richman, rebellious type Jules, sweet and sensitive Sophia, and adventure-seeking Ana. The Augusts, they call themselves. And now their making their own Sisterhood, when they turn 16...

* * *

**1. Prologue**

I can still remember that first summer clearly when all four of us, Bridget, Lena, Tibby, and me, discovered a magic pair of jeans in an old thrift store one day while we were shopping. Crazily, they all fit us: Bridget Vreeland, the tall soccer player; Lena Kaligaris, the petite beauty; Tibby Rollins, the boyish-figured filmmaker; and me, Carmen, the round Puerto Rican. We were a little shocked by how they fit us, but nonetheless, we bought them for $3.49, including tax.

That summer, we passed them around, each wearing them for a week before we shipped them off to the next person in line to receive them. Lena was in Greece visiting her grandparents; Bridget was in Baja California at a soccer camp; Tibby stayed behind filming a documentary and working at Wallman's, and I visited my Dad in Virginia—where I found out he was engaged.

But, of course, that was a while ago when we were 16. Even though it was a while ago, we still remember the summer clearly as if it happened just this past year. But now, it's been 27 years, and we're all 43. (Old, we know.) We've grown up with one another, and even had kids around the same time, which we dubbed, the Augusts.

Bridget Vreeland is now Bridget Richman, married to the soccer coach, Eric, who she met while in Baja at the soccer camp when she was 16. I guess you could consider it love-at-first-sight, but it really wasn't that. Anyway, they met back up and college, and married shortly after Bridget graduated. Their first child, Michael, was born a year later. 2 years later, when she was 26, she had her first daughter, Carson, on August 3.

Tibby Rollins married Tom Quillis, so now, she was Tibby Quillis. They met at an Independent Film Competition held at their college. They met colliding cameras, and that was when true hate started. But, eventually, being around each other more and more, they started dating, and married as seniors. Her first daughter,Juliet, or Jules,was born on August 11—the same year Carson was. From then on, she had 3 other children, all girls—Natalie, Hannah, and Rebecca.

Lena married an Italian-American named Fabrizio Paoli while she attended an art school in Tuscany, Italy. They had a small wedding on the coast, and only invited her family, the Sisterhood, and their families. They had dated for only 6 months, but knew it was love-at-first-meet. Their engagement lasted 6 as well, and their first daughter, Belinda, was born a year later. Another year passed, and on August 20, their second daughter, Sophia, was born—the same year as Carson and Jules.

And I, Carmen, married my step-brother Paul's friend, Rob Harper, who I met at Paul's 20th birthday party. Even though we went to different colleges, we continued to date, and we became engaged a couple months before my graduation. We had a tradition wedding a year later, and another year later, my August 31 baby, Tatiana (which Rob decided on because his family came from Russia), or Ana, was born—completing the four Augusts we four friends had. I had another child, Lucy, four years later, which I happily named after my grandmother.

We all settled in the suburban side of Charleston, South Carolina, and bought houses in the same neighborhood. I'm glad we did, because I couldn't live without my 3 best friends close to me. And so brings forth the story of our next generation, our daughters, the Augusts, and their friendship and love toward one another. Of course, we all take care of one another's children and allow them to call us by our first names, declared by Tibby, who thought the formality of Mrs. Quillis, or Mrs. Paoli, or Mrs. Richman, or Mrs. Harper. "We're all family," Tibby says.

And our four families—the Harper's, Paoli's, Quillis's, and Richman's—took care of one another, helped one another, and loved one another. Because we haven't forgotten—Pantslove. Love your pals, love yourself.

And, even now, we still follow that rule.


	2. The Augusts

**1. The Augusts**

"Jules!" Tibby Quillis yelled from the kitchen, balancing her youngest daughter, 18-month-old Rebecca on her hip. The kitchen TV was turned to a film documentary, available on On-Demand. Ever since that one summer she had created the documentary with Bailey when she was 16, she had become crazy with documentaries. Go figure, it was about a friend's death. It would be depressing if Tibby had decided to sit down and watch it, but she was just to pre-occupied to pay attention. "Jules!" she yelled again, opening the fridge.

16-year-old Jules Quillis entered the kitchen, holding a video tape in her hands. It was labeled "B" in red ink. "Look what I found," she said. "What is this?" She indicated toward the tape.

"It was a tape I made when I was 16." Tibby slammed the fridge shut, and looked thoughtful. "Well, actually my 'assistant' Bailey made it."

"The girl who died of leukemia?" Jules asked, sitting down on a bar stool.

Tibby looked sad. "Yes." She grabbed the TV remote and turned off the documentary. Suddenly she wasn't interested.

"Can I watch it?" Her oldest daughter was looking up with her big brown eyes.

"Jules, you don't have to ask, I've told you. The tapes downstairs are for everyone's 'viewing pleasures'. It's probably broken or it skips an awful lot. Can you watch Rebecca while I run to Duncan's?" Duncan's was the local supermarket, kind of like Wallman's that Tibby worked at so long ago. "Natalie should be at the William's, and Hannah is at ballet."

"You sure do quote a lot."

"Watch Rebecca and I'll stop quoting." Tibby threw the remote on the counter and set Rebecca on a chair at the dining room table.

"Fine," Jules said groanfully, but took Rebecca anyway. "Be back soon, though."

"Why, you got a hot date?" Tibby asked, still searching for her purse.

"I wish." Jules bobbed Rebecca up and down on her knee slowly.

"Aha!" Tibby cried triumphantly when she found her cargo purse at the bottom of the shoe closet. "Found it! I'll be back soon. And this time, Jules, check her diaper." She kissed her daughter's cheek. "Bye."

"Bye, Mom." She watched her Mom walk out of the kitchen, heard her open and slam the front door, and a few seconds later, their silver SUV engine rev. "Come on, Becca. Let's see what fun there is in the living room."

* * *

Lena Paoli sketched quietly on the back patio, enjoying the sounds of the birds chirping. Her oldest daughter, Belinda, was asleep on the lawn, after reading _The Complete Works of Shakespeare_. She smiled at the thought of her child reading Shakespeare. After all, she was the one who started it. She pulled her dark, luscious brown hair into a ponytail to keep it from her eyes. She glanced down at her sketch of the apple tree in their backyard. Horrible, she commented to herself.

Her youngest daughter, Sophia, pulled back the screen door, wearing her bathing suit, hoping to go for a dive in the backyard built-in pool. Even at her old age, Lena envied her daughter's crisp tan and good body, but yet she wished Sophia would actually like her body. "So much for the quiet," Lena joked, smiling.

"It is so hot here," Sophia commented as she slipped into the pool, wetting her hair. "But this water feels nice. Come on, Mom, get in."

"I'm sketching," Lena excused herself, going back to her drawing. "Besides, my suit is inside and I don't want to go get it."

Sophia laughed. "Come on, Mom, have some fun. Jump in the pool with all your clothes on."

Lena looked at her daughter. "I just bought this shirt. I don't want to ruin it."

"Then why did you wear it. A hot Sunday afternoon, in the first week of summer?"

Lena sighed, and looked down at her white t-shirt with a floral print and the hems. Grinning, she stood up, pulled of her shirt and pants, revealing a matching bra-and-underwear set, and splashed into the pool. As she broke the surface of the water, she sighed peacefully. The ninety degree weather had beaten the crap out of her, and the cool pool water refreshed her. She floated on her back, closed her eyes, floating on clouds…

Until a gigantic splash covered her and pushed her underwater. She spun, eyes wide open but couldn't see anything. A pair of arms wrapped around her, and she was pulled to the surface. When Lena sputtered water out of her mouth and opened her eyes, she was in the arms of her Italian husband, Fabrizio. He was grinning like a little boy. His handsome face shown in the sun, his eyes the color of the deepest blue.

"Fabri, don't do that!" Lena cried, slapping him on the arm, but she was still smiling. "You scared me!"

"I'm sorry," Fabrizio apologized, in his all-too-familiar accent to Lena. He kissed her warmly. "I was just having fun."

Lena looked over at Jules, who was laughing and hanging onto the diving board. "I give that an eight," she judged. Her dad smiled.

"Only an eight?" he questioned.

Lena's eyes widened. "You planned this!" she said.

Her husband gave her another grin, and she was positive if she was standing, her knees would give in. "So what if we were?"

* * *

It was her and the goal. The ball had to go in. Her dad stood in the way, but she was going to make it past. Carson Richman kicked the ball hard, and it soared between her father's hands and went straight into the corner of the orange goal.

She yelled in delight, and she and her mother, Bridget, ran the "airplane" over the field. "Amazing soccer player," Bridget congratulated her sixteen year old daughter. "But, of course, the goalie wasn't too hard to get passed…" Eric Richman, her husband who she had met at a soccer camp in Baja when she was sixteen, walked over and gave her a kiss.

"I'd like to see you in the goal with that thing," he joked, pointing to his daughter.

"Hey!" Carson cried, retying her long, thick, gorgeous blonde hair into a high ponytail at the top of her head.

"I never played goal," Bridget defended.

"Pity," Eric replied. "I don't think you could master it anyway."

Bridget sneered. "Funny."

Eric wiped sweat from his forehead. "I'm thirsty. Anybody want something to drink?"

"Water," Bridget said.

"Sprite," Carson replied, smiling. Her dad shook his head and disappeared into their beautiful house, two houses down from Tibby Quillis's.

Bridget rolled her eyes at her daughter, who looked so much like her. "I'm going to laugh my butt off when your teeth rot out," she said.

"I think I got my sweet tooth from your side of the family, thank you," Carson replied, lying down on the cool grass in the shade. Part of the reason her parents bough their house was because of their gigantic yard, complete with a swimming pool, and half of a soccer field, with a big net at the end. When she and her three best friends Sophia, Jules, and Ana, were toddlers, it was their ideal playpen. And it still was.

"No, it's hanging out with Tibby," Bridget answered. She sat next to her daughter, leaning against the goalpost. She sighed in the heat. "I declare tonight a Movie Night."

Carson smiled. Movie Nights were when Bridget's sisterhood, the mother's of her friends (Tibby, Lena, and Carmen), and her friends all got together at someone's house, with popcorn, sodas, and candy beyond candy. It was usually more than once a week. "Sounds good to me," Carson smiled. She looked over at her Mom. Their long blonde hair and bluish eyes were the same. She had inherited her father's nose and mouth.

"Yeah," Bridget agreed. "Does sound good."

* * *

Carmen groaned evilly at the pair of jeans that wouldn't fit her. They were perfect, bootleg, low-rise, but they just didn't fit. She quickly shredded them off and put on her own size ten jeans. She busted out of the dressing room to her beautiful Russian-Puerto Rican daughter, Tatiana, or Ana. She envied her daughter's figure—a size 4. Not fair. Well, she's 16, you're 43, a voice inside her head reasoned.

"What's wrong, they didn't fit?" Ana asked.

"I looked like a tramp," Carmen said huffily, throwing the jeans on a return rack. "They didn't fit."

"And they were perfect," Ana sighed, walking along the racks of clothes in Macy's at the mall.

"You not helping," Carmen said as they walked into the shoe section. She picked a size five pair of heels. If you could call that a heel. It looked more like a stick. "I hate my body," she moaned.

"Mom, you have a great body," Ana said. "Don't tell yourself you don't. And so what if you don't fit into those jeans? Screw the jeans."

"But they were pretty jeans."

"Stop sulking," Ana reasoned. "You'll only make yourself feel worse."

Carmen cast a glance at her daughter. "I hate it when you're right," she said.

"Then you are hateful all the time."

Carmen rolled her eyes. "Funny." Her cell phone buzzed in her purse. She zipped it open and pulled out her jewel-studded phone. "Hello? Yeah…Macy's…ok…but that's all the way at the other end of the mall…but—fine. I love you too." Carmen hung up the phone sulkily.

"What?" Ana asked, setting down a pair of size seven boots.

"Your dad wants us to pick out a tie for him for his business meeting tomorrow," Carmen said. "And he said there's a barbecue at the Quillis's. We better get going." Carmen looked at a pair of size five heels, did a double take, and snatched the pair off the rack.

"What are you doing?" Ana asked, following her mother to the register.

"Being spontaneous," she said dully.

"What?"

"I'm buying a pair of shoes."

Ana shook her head. "Mom, those are a size five."

"And your point is?"

"You're a size eight?"

Carmen threw the shoes on the register counter and pulled out her credit card. "I'll make them fit."


	3. Thank God For The Sisters

**3. Thank God For The Sisters**

A honk from a Honda Civic awoke Ana. She glanced at her clock. 11:30. Crap! she thought, and sprung out of bed so fast that she tripped over the sheets. Today she, Jules, Sophia, and Carson were going shopping for something to keep them together for the summer while they were apart. Their mothers had found a mysterious pair of pants, and she believed that they could find something of the like.

Carson was going to a soccer camp in New Mexico. She was going with her mom, Bridget, but she had to cancel the last minute do to her traveling soccer team championship, which came earlier than expected. Sophia was going to an art school in Italy, some small town by the coast. Ana knew she couldn't wait, since she had an amazing flair for art, like her mother, Lena. Jules was "going to rot this summer" as her mother, Tibby, put it. Tibby herself has said that so many years ago. But she planned on doing something exciting, besides babysitting. Ana herself was going to her grandparent's house for a reunion on her step-grandmother Lydia's side. Her parents, Carmen and Rob, had chosen to stay behind.

Frantic, Ana pulled on a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a jean jacket over it. Her hair didn't look half bad, so she gelled it and grabbed her purse, but checking for money first.

She sped down the stairs faster than she ever had before. And nearly slammed into her mother, spilling her juice down the front of her shirt. "Ana!" Carmen wailed, looking down at her shirt.

"I'm so sorry, Mom!" Ana replied, staring at the shirt. "It's just that I'm in a rush."

"Well if you had set your alarm like I've told you so many times you wouldn't have this problem," Carmen replied, walking into the kitchen. "Remember your school photo? Where are you going with the girls?"

Ana shook her head. "We're taking one last shopping trip before we leave each other," Ana answered, grabbing her sunglasses from the table. "Their outside. I'm late. Bye Mom."

"Bye baby, I love you!" Carmen yelled as Ana shut the front door behind her. Carson, who was at the wheel, the only one with their license, honked the horn twice more. She waved her hands to come on.

Ana sat in the backseat next to Sophia. "What took you so long?" Carson asked, pulling off the curb and roaring down the street.

"Carson that's a stop sign!" Jules cried from the front.

"I see it, I'm not blind," Carson replied, agitated. She turned onto the main road of Bethesda's Little Park housing area. "So what exactly are we looking for?"

"Anything to keep us together for the summer," Ana replied.

"Can't we just right letters and send pictures?" Sophia asked, looking out the window.

"Oh, Soph, you are so old fashioned," Carson wailed playfully, turning onto Bethesda's main shopping boulevard. "We're looking for something fun. To fit us. All of us. And I don't mean a pair of jeans." She gave a look at Ana.

"Let's look at the old vintage store, then," Jules said, pointing to The Magic Lamp, and old vintage store that sold everything from clothes to furniture, after applying some of her new lipgloss. Carson pulled fastly to the curb to parallel park, making Sophia let out a yelp.

"Chill out, Soph," Carson said, as everyone slammed their car doors shut.

Suddenly Ana felt very self-conscious. Everyone made her look, well, bluntly, ugly. Carson's beautiful hair was pulled into two hanging braids by her face. Even when she wore faded denim jeans and a year old soccer hoodie, like today, she still looked gorgeous. Jules was wearing a denim mini skirt, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She looked like a doll. Sophia's full brown hair was pulled half up, and her slim jeans and pretty tunic shirt made her figure dazzling.

The Magic Lamp was and older store, but had long been in business. It smelled of burning rose-smelling candles and old cloth. The store was darker, with a painted sign above the door, and a window with stacks of old antiques and clothes. It was the place Carson liked to shop, especially for her jeans.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" Jules questioned, flipping through a stack of old magazines.

"Anything that screams 'us'," Ana replied, holding up a pair of jeans with a huge hole in the knee. Definitely not. Sophia wouldn't be caught dead wearing those.

"There's a lot to choose from," Carson said, her voice sounding like she was in a closet. "I found a shirt. But it wouldn't fit with Sophia's boobs."

"_Carson_!" Sophia cried, looking around the room, then down at her chest. "They are not big."

"Only D range," Jules joked.

"You guys are heartless," Ana said, wandering over to the used book sections. After picking a few up, she found a brown leather covered notebook, with only a couple pages written on, mostly grocery lists and to-do lists. A few pages of a burn book. A few confessions to a crush. On the bottom of the cover on the journal, inscribed were the words _Thank God For The Sisters_. Opening the journal, there was a long list of previous owners under _This book belongs too…_ The second name was Juliet. Ana glanced up. Jules had a feather boa and a hat on and was dancing around like an idiot. Father down the list was the same Sophia Louisa Carson-Flemming in beautiful handwriting. Carson's name and Sophia's name were used. And the last name was Ana P. Her name. Even spelled the same way.

"Guys, I found something," Ana called.

"What is it?" Carson asked, pulling her sweatshirt back on after trying on a shirt. She, Jules, and Sophia walked over, and looked at the worn journal.

"It's gorgeous!" Sophia said, flipping through the pages. "A few written things, but we can erase them."

"Look at the previous owner list," Ana instructed, flipping to the front of the book. They read it silently.

"Our names are all used!" Jules realized. "Oh my God!"

"This is a little freaky if you ask me," Carson said, the journal in her hands.

"What do you guys think?" Ana asked. "Do you guys like it?"

"Not too old fashioned?" Sophia asked sarcastically, looking pointedly over at Carson, who shrugged.

"Nah, I think it's good," Jules said. "We'll all write in it, then pass it on."

"Well, let's get it before we change our minds and kick ourselves for it," Carson said, pulling her wallet out from her back pocket and taking the journal. She took it to the register, everyone following.

"How much?" Carson asked, giving the cashier the journal.

The clerk flipped through it. "Well, since there's writing in it, ah, five bucks."

Everyone dug out their shared amount, and walked out with a new journal to tell one another their tales while apart. "Even the inscription fits," Sophia said. "Isn't that weird?"

"Too weird for words," Carson agreed. She spotted an ice-cream stand on the corner of the street. "Ice cream!" she cried, and ran ahead of the group to get their first.

"To celebrate!" Ana agreed, and they all raced to the stand.


	4. Rules of the Sisterhood

**4. Rules of the Sisterhood**

The same night, Ana found out from her Mom that Gilda's was going out of business. The place was a mess. Dirty, grungy, and bluntly, old. Gilda's Fitness had served as the place where Tibby, Bridget, Carmen, and Lena had their rituals with the pants, and Ana had a feeling it could be her friends' place as well.

"Where is Gilda's, Mom?" Ana asked, as she, Carmen, and little sister, Lucy, ate their microwave dinners in front of the TV. Ana's dad, Rob, was out of town on a business trip, and this was how they usually lived when he was gone: lazy.

"It's down on South Boulevard, near that old vintage store," Carmen replied, mouth full of macaroni.

"Mom, don't talk with food in your mouth!" Lucy exclaimed, wiping her mouth. "That is just gross."

"What are you, forty?" Ana remarked. She turned to her mom. "We were at The Magic Lamp today. We found something to keep us apart for the summer."

"A pair of jeans."

Ana smiled. "Of the like."

"Wow," Carmen thought, "Gilda's brings back memories. I'm surprised it stayed in business for so long. The easiest way to get in is to go through the window in the back alleyway. But be careful of the ladder, though, it could be unstable." Ana gaped at her Mom. "What?"

"You are giving me permission to break into a fitness center?" Ana asked.

"Uh, yeah."

Ana smiled. "You are the coolest Mom ever!" She grabbed her tray and went into the kitchen. Dumped the food into the trashcan, picked up the cordless phone, and shut her bedroom door. She dialed 957-5833, and Carson picked up on the sixth ring.

"Hello?" Carson sounded like she had been running.

"Hey, Carson, it's Ana."

"Sup, Ana?" In the background, Ana could hear the laughter of Bridget, the swear words from Eric. She guessed that Bridget had beaten him at a shootout.

"Playing soccer?" she asked.

"More like Mom," Carson replied. "So…"

"I need you to get all the girls together and come pick me up after," Ana said. "I have the perfect place to start our summer. With the journal."

"Uh, I have a flight at five in the morning," Carson said stupidly.

"I know, but come on, trust me. Come on, Civic." Ana hung up. A few years ago, she, Jules, and Soph had given the nickname to Carson—Civic—since the beginning of her name is Car. They used to call her Car, but Ana had come up with the dumb Civic joke. Bridget and Eric called her that, too, and for a joke, on her sixteenth birthday, her parents had bought her a used Honda Civic.

The new Sisterhood laughed at the dumbest things.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Carson pulled up on the curve of Ana's house. She honked twice, and as usual, annoyed the neighbors, and Ana jumped into the backseat. Jules was in a sweatsuit, Sophia in a sweatshirt and pajama bottoms, and Carson in blue jeans and windbreaker. AC/DC was playing on the stereo. Ana knew it was Carson's. She was into the classic/heavy-metal/punk rock.

"I need my beauty rest, so let's make this quick," Jules said as they sped down the street.

"What's in the bag?" Sophia asked, noticing the bag in Ana's hands.

"Oh, the journal, matches, a couple lighters—''

"Are we setting a place on fire?" Carson asked.

"No."

"Oh." Her voice was dull.

"Anyway, journal, matches, a lighter, candles, junk food, and gummy worms," Ana finished. She looked out the window as The Magic Lamp passed by. "Turn here, Civic!"

Carson turned on the back street, and pulled the car into park. "Is this some sick joke?" she asked.

"No…"

"Then where the heck are we going?"

Ana opened her car door. "Gilda's."

Jules looked at her. "Gilda's? The fitness place?"

"Isn't that closing?" Sophia asked. Ana led them to the back alleyway, and saw the ladder her mom was talking about. It was half-pulled down, so Carson, as tall as she was, pulled it all the way down.

"You are weird, Tatiana," Carson said. "Hold this for me." She handed Ana her yellow Adidas soccer ball, and climbed up the ladder.

"You think I'm weird?" Ana accused. "You brought a soccer ball."

"Yeah, well, in case we were going somewhere boring." Everyone else started up the ladder. They all squeezed through the small window, and scrambled to the middle of the floor. Ana carefully set out the candles, junk food, and set the journal in the middle of the circle they formed, just like their mothers did so long ago.

"This is like Sixteen Candles," Sophia said, smiling.

"I need Redvines," Carson whined softly.

"If we're telling our deepest confessions…I have to pee," Jules said smugly.

"Ugh, gross, J," Ana said. She sighed. "This place is sacred."

"It smells."

"I still have to pee."

Ana looked around at her Sisters. "Our mothers, Carmen, Bridget, Lena, and Tibby, met here 27 years ago, and now it's our turn. I say we are a new Sisterhood. The Augusts."

"I like it," Sophia said, smiling.

"Let's make rules, I've always wanted to do that," Jules said.

"And have people actually follow them?" Carson teased.

Sophia reached into her purse and pulled out a sheet of used shopping lists and a pen. "Use this to write them down, and later we'll write it over neater." Ana took the pen and paper, tapping the pen thoughtfully.

"How about, we each must write two pages at the least," she suggested. Everyone agree, and she scribbled it down.

"You must dish everything, no secrets," Carson laughed, and Ana wrote it down. "I was joking."

"Oh, no, Sisterhoods never joke," Ana said seriously.

* * *

After an hour of giggling, throwing food, and burning a couple fingers from the candles (Carson attempted to lick her fingers and simmer out the candle), Ana cleared her throat and addressed the group. "Our Sisterhood now has rules, and they go as followed:

_Rule #1: You must write at least two pages in your entry of the journal, no less. _

_Rule #2: You must tell everything, unless it is a deep, dark secret that you must tell to your Sisters in person. No other exceptions._

_Rule#3: The journal is not to have a single eraser mark in it. No erasing. Period. We want the journal to show that we all make mistakes. _("That was Soph's idea," Jules defended.)

_Rule#4: The journal shall not be dirtied. No food, scratches, fingerprints, spilled drinks._

_Rule#5: You must send pictures and give a complete detailed description. You must keep the photos in the journal for your other Sisters to see._

_Rule #6: You must send the journal to the Sisters in order. No jumping out of line: Carson, Jules, Sophia, Ana._

_Rule #7: DO NOT LET ANYONE ELSE READ!_

And I think there should be a last one," Ana said, finishing off the list. "In honor of our mother's sisterhood, the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants."

"Yeah? What is it?" Jules asked, mouthful of Cheetos.

Ana smiled at the memory. "Journallove. Love your pals, love yourself."

"I agree," Carson yelled a little too loudly.

"Me, too," Sophia said.

"Me, three," Jules said childishly.

And the Sisterhood of the Augusts stayed up eating, laughing, talking, and burning more of their fingers, until Sophia's cell phone rang. It was her Mom, telling her to come home.


	5. The Start of the Summer

**5. The Start of the Summer**

The airport was so crowded that Carson, Bridget, and Eric could barely walk without being bumped, pushed, or not touched at all. Carson was getting fed up and nearly attacked a younger kid who pushed her out of the way, before her mother grabbed her and steered her on.

Since all Carson had was a carry-on dufflebag, there was no need to stand in the ginormus line to check bags in. They headed to gate 19, where Carson would catch a flight to Chicago, and then down to New Mexico. The gate was bustling, and it was time to board.

Eric pulled her into a giant bear hug. "You kick major a—'' Bridget threw him a look, as if to say, _There are kids around!_ "Butt. You kick everyone's butt." Then he whispered in her ear, "And try out for goalie so we can both beat your Mom when you come home."

Bridget whacked Eric on his tanned arm. "I heard that," she said, pulling her hair back. She hugged Carson, swaying her back and forth slightly. "You will kick butt. And find some hot coaches," she added.

Eric looked worried, and held up a hand. "But don't get any."

"Dad…" Carson wailed. "Lighten up. I'll have a great time. It's an all-girl soccer camp. You wouldn't let me go to one that was coed." She looked at the line to board. "Well, I better get going. I love you both."

"We love you, baby," Eric said, and Bridget blew her a kiss. Then he mouthed, "Kick ass."

As Bridget and Eric turned to leave and started walking slowly down the row of people waiting to board, a middle-aged man looked at her. "That your sister you sent off?" he asked, smiling.

Eric looked from the man to Bridget, and his wife slithered her arm around his waist, making it obvious she was with Eric. "She's my daughter," Bridget replied coolly.

That made the man turn around.

* * *

Sophia stood at the same airport where Carson was at, only an hour later. She was standing in line to check her bags, with her Mom and Dad.

"I think you're going to have a wonderful time, Sophie," Lena said, tying her hair back off her glowing face. "Italy is just so beautiful. Look what it did to your father."

"What, you don't think this is natural?" Fabrizio said, indicating his face. Lena laughed and kissed him lightly. Sophia shook her head. What was it with her parent's public display of affection?

"You are going to come home a better artist than me," Lena told Sophia. "I just know it. Soaking up the sun, the guys, the artwork. I wish I was going."

"You know, Mom, you had the opportunity to be an teacher there for the summer, but you chose to stay at the museum," Soph replied. Her mother was the curator at the National Museum of Art in Baltimore. She could have joined an intern group and worked at the La Belle Art Institution in Sorrento, Italy, but chose to stay instead.

"And now I regret my decision," Lena said sadly.

"But you wouldn't be with me," Fabrizio reasoned. "Aren't you glad you stayed?"

Lena pretended to ponder. "True…" she trailed off. Fabri kissed her again.

Sophia reached the counter, and she set her suitcase on the scale. "Boarding pass and passport, please," the attendant said. Sophie reached into her purse and pulled out her hideous passport, her boarding pass stuck inside. She handed it to the attendant, who checked it thoroughly. She entered the suitcase's weight on the computer, printed out a tag, stuck it on the suitcase, and sent it down the conveyer belt.

"Okay…" Sophia said as they left the counter, reading her boarding pass, "gate 40 in the East Wing…"

Fabrizio looked over at the Baltimore Airport map. "Dang it. We have to take the train."

* * *

Since Jules had nothing better to do then sit home, eat candy, and watch movies, she tagged along with the Harper's to the train station at noon to send Ana off to Virginia. The train didn't leave for another half hour, so Jules guessed they had a lot of time to cry.

"I still don't understand why you guys didn't decide to come," Ana said, fiddling with a suitcase.

"We didn't want to," Rob said bluntly.

"Rob, honestly," Carmen said. "Ana, we would just rather stay here. I'm not on best terms with Lydia's side of the family, so you can see why it would be awkward. But it's great for you because you barely know them!"

"I can come," Jules said. "I can wear your clothes."

"Funny, Jules. I would love you to come, but, ah…" Ana said. "Anyway, I don't have a reserved seat." She pointed toward the train.

Carmen blinked. "Okay."

"Meaning I want to find a good seat," Ana implied.

"Okay."

"So…I better board the train."

Rob looked at his watch. "Yeah, you might want to, because I have a business meeting in an hour I can't miss," he said.

"Rob, don't worry about work, they'll understand," Carmen assured irritably.

"No, Carmen, I don't think they will," Rob growled.

"Honestly. There are more important things than your work. Like your daughter, who is going off to visit more family." Carmen's face was going red.

"I barely know them, Carmen!" Rob's voice was rising.

"Rob, not in front of the girls, or in a public place for that matter," Carmen said lowly. "We'll discuss this later." She turned to Carmen. "Baby, I think you should go find a seat.


	6. Santa Maria Soccer Academy

Okay, here we go. Just FYI, I made up the college. The disclaimer is I own everything but the original characters of the Sisterhood. So, yada yada yada yada, here it is.

* * *

**6. Santa Maria Soccer Academy**

Carson gaped at the entrance to the Santa Maria Soccer Academy in New Mexico. Even the sign was gorgeous. Santa Maria was one of the best colleges for soccer in the United States, and Carson had been good enough to make it to the summer camp. And the only reason she got a spot was because her mother, Bridget, was going to cancel. Too bad she had to drop out at the last minute.

"Wow, you are really interested in that sign." Carson spun around, and saw a tall, athletic built girl with fiery red hair grinning at her. Carson noticed how pretty she was: deep set green eyes, silky hair, smooth skin, and an oval face. It made her feel uncommonly uncomfortable with her own looks. Sure, Carson thought of herself pretty, with her hair, tan skin with no acne whatsoever, and pale blue eyes.

"Oh, um, yeah," Carson replied, stuttering. "It's just a sign, though."

"Just overwhelmed by being in Santa Maria, huh?" the girl asked. Carson nodded. "The name's Nadia. Nadia Rockland."

Carson shook her head. "Carson Richman. Nice to meet you." Nadia smiled.

They followed the group of girls that got off the bus with them, dumped their bags in the lobby of the apartment building, and waited for the announcement of dorm roomies. One of the coaches stood up on the desk to get everyone's attention, and finally quieted all the girls down. "Welcome to Santa Maria Soccer Academy. When I call you and your dorm buddy's name, you will come take your key from me, go upstairs, change, get to know one another, whatever. But I want you all down here at 4:30 for the first 'official' practice. The list of scrimmages, games, and other important information is upstairs waiting in your room, but I'll say a few here: dinner is served at 6:00 every night down at the main cafeteria. Lunch at 12:00, same place, and breakfast at 8:00, same place. I would advise you get there early if not on time, so the best food isn't gone." She looked at her clipboard. "Okay, now we'll get started…Aldrich, Samantha and Anderson, Lisa." She held the key to them, and they disappeared up the stairs.

"Atom, Erin, and Becket, Elizabeth."

"Carlson, Demi, and Darien, Tanna." The list went on, and Carson's head perked up when she heard her last name. "Richman, Carson, and Rockland, Nadia." They looked at each other and grinned, Nadia taking the #17 key from the coach.

Their room was on the third floor and as plain as it could get. At least they only had to share their bathroom with two girls named Diana Tucker and Lana Vernon. Two single beds sat on opposite ends of the room, and next to the bed were dressers. There were two desks in front of the window, overlooking a green soccer field, a comfortable looking couch, a coffee table, and to Carson's delight, a foosball table.

"Home sweet home," Nadia said, "for a couple weeks at least."

"It's better than some camp dorms I've been to," Carson replied. "The worst had hair stuck to the shower." Nadia's face shrunk up in disgust.

"Some people." She threw her dufflebag onto her bed and changed into a pair of Nike shorts, sports bra, and hat. She threw her clothes into each drawer, and stuck her empty dufflebag at the end of her bed. "Waiting for you, Carson," she said, playing with her soccer ball.

Carson put on a pair of her own Adidas running shorts, running tanktop, pulled her golden hair into a messy bun, and stuck an Adidas hat on her head. She squirted sunscreen onto her face, arms, and legs, and ran down the stairs with Nadia to the soccer field.

The sun was beating down. It was already 97 degrees. Carson was suddenly glad she had her hat. Someone caught her eye, and she turned to see a handsome boy—no, student, she guessed—carrying a bag of soccer balls. His dark brown hair laid above his eyes nicely. He was tall, strong built, and gorgeous.

"Who are you looking at?" Nadia asked.

Carson turned to her. "Nobody, just looking at my competition."

"All girls, over here!" a coach yelled. "Okay, when I read off your name, go join your team over there. The teams are blue, red, purple, orange, and green. Aldrich, Samatha—blue!"

"Anderson, Lisa—purple!"

"Atom, Erin—orange!"

"Becket, Elizabeth—orange!"

"Carlson, Demi—red!"

"Darien, Tanna--purple!"

"Horn, Beccy—blue!"

"Hathaway, Nancy—green!"

The list went on and on. Carson jumped up and down nervously when her name was shouted over the cheering. "Richman, Carson—orange!" The orange team erupted in applause, and grinning, Carson joined her team. She threw a look at Nadia, who grinned back. The coach yelled her next, "Rockland, Nadia—green!" Carson looked disappointedly as Nadia smiled and raced over to her strong-looking team.

"I can't believe this," a girl next to her moaned. "Orange is the bad omen color."

"Excuse me?" Carson asked, looking at the girl three inches shorter than her with thick brown hair and eyes.

"The whole reason I got into a car crash was because I saw a flashy orange jogging vest and got distracted. Mom thought I should get away from the drama at home and come here. Alas, I get put on the orange team," the girl said. "And my name starts with an 'O': Olivia. Doesn't that suck?"

Carson tried not to laugh. "Um, yeah, I guess under your circumstances, it does suck. I'm sorry?"

"I'm sorry, too," Olivia said dully. "Who are you?"

"Carson," Carson replied, smiling friendly. "My friends call me Civic."

Olivia laughed. "Why Civic?"

"Well, they used to call me Car, since that's what Carson starts with, and then my friends just got around to calling me Civic. It's more like an inside joke. With us, that is." Carson bit her lip. Olivia only smiled.

"Your friends sound like a bunch of weirdos. But in the good sense of weird."

Carson grinned, jumping from one foot to the other in excitement. "Thanks."

The first drill was running between poles. For speed, the coach had said. But Carson couldn't concentrate. Her mind was on the really hot guy who was working on a clipboard by the goal. Observing the teams, Carson guessed. And when practice finally ended and everyone headed off to the dining hall, Carson made her way over to the boy, who was still writing down notes.

"Hey," Carson said friendly. The boy looked up. Definitely hot, Carson thought, and felt her knees turn to jelly. His eyes were the deepest blue, and she felt like she was swimming in them.

"Hi," he said awkwardly. He pointed to the field. "I saw you out there. You were good. Look's like all the other teams are up in competition."

Carson grinned her beautiful smile, showing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth. "Thanks. So, do you have a name?"

"Yeah. What's it to you?" But he was smiling.

"Um…future references," Carson replied slyly. "I'm Carson Richman." The guy shook her hand.

"Tom Lancy," he replied. He looked around. "Well, I better get back to the dorm. I'm a student here. And you should go eat. See ya tomorrow, Richman." He turned and left.

Carson watched him leave, biting her lip and grinning.


	7. Back to Virginia

**7. Back to Virginia**

The train was nearly at Charleston Station. Ana tried to call her mom, but the phone line was busy. She was worried about her parents; they seemed to be going through a rough time in their marriage. And frankly, she was worried. Carmen and Rob never used to argue, but they had been over the last couple of months.

And Ana was so wrapped up in her thoughts that it took her a while to realize the train had stopped and people were already departing. From the train window, she could see in the distance her aging grandpa and step-grandma, who she just called Lydia. Her Aunt, Krista, was there as well, talking on her cell phone. But Ana didn't call Krista her Aunt, just Krista.

Ana grabbed her suitcase and stepped off the train. Her Grandpa waved her over, and he and Lydia enveloped her with hugs. "Hey, sweetie!" Al said.

"Hey Grandpa, Lydia, Krista," Ana replied, turned over to a beaming blonde Krista, who hugged her when she turned off her cell phone. Krista was rich, rich, and oh yeah, rich. She married a lawyer, and had three children: Michael, fifteen; Deena, thirteen; and Thomas, nine.

"We are just so happy to see you!" Lydia exclaimed as they walked out to the parking lot, and put Ana's suitcase in the SUV's trunk.

"How was the trip?" Ana asked. They sat in the back together, while Al and Lydia were up front. "Paul couldn't make it because his wife is still in the hospital. Car crash, and she broke her arm severely. But she's getting better, and will be out by the reunion." Paul married a nurse, and Ana found it ironic that she had actually become a patient. Paul had two kids. Daniel, eighteen; and Kate, fourteen.

"Oh, I didn't hear about that," Ana said sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

Lydia changed the subject. "Well…how I wish your mother and father could be here," she said as Al turned onto their street. "How are they?"

"Oh, um, they're…fine," Ana lied. Actually, they weren't fine at all. But she didn't say that at loud.

"I wish they could have come," Lydia went on. "Carmen and Rob…they would have been a hoot." Everyone laughed, and Ana secretly rolled her eyes.

Al pulled up on the curb of their home, a 1950's style whitewashed home with blue shutters. Sitting on the front porch was Paul and his son, Daniel. Daniel had gotten a lot taller, Ana thought as she got out of the car, her dad handing her her suitcase from the trunk.

When she reached the front lawn, Paul hugged her. Ana actually liked Paul. Not that she didn't like the others, but she felt closer to Paul, since her parents had met through him. "Good to see ya, Ana," he greeted. Daniel gave me a half smile and gave me a brief hug. For the most part, we got along.

"How's it going?" he asked me as we all went inside.

"Pretty good," Ana lied once again, "you?"

"About the same as you." Wanna bet? Ana thought.

"Here, let me get that, honey," Al said, taking Ana's suitcase, "I'll show you where you'll sleep." He lead her upstairs and into a pretty country-themed room overlooking the backyard. "Hope it suits you," he said.

"Oh, yeah, it's great, thanks," Ana reassured. She smiled at Al, who pulled her into a hug.

"I'm really glad you could come, Ladybug," Al said. Ladybug had been his nickname for his oldest granddaughter since she was born.

"I'm really glad I could come, too, Grandpa."

Al sighed. "I just wish Carmen was able to come. And I have this feeling in my gut, saying that she didn't."

Ana sat next to him on the bed. "Grandpa, what makes you say that?"

"I don't know. She's just been real…iffy around Lydia's side of the family. Like she doesn't like them." Al looked at her.

Ana shook her head. "No, Mom likes them. It's just that she doesn't feel very comfortable around them. I mean, she does, but…well, it's complicated."

Al just laughed and kissed his granddaughter's head. "That's all right. I just miss her." He heard Lydia's loud cackling from downstairs and took that as a cue. "We better get downstairs before they think something happened to us. What do you say?" He offered his arm to Ana, and she took it, smiling.

* * *

Barbeque ribs were for dinner, and Paul's wife, Natasha, and daughter Kate even made it over. Kate and Ana got along pretty well, since they were pretty much alike. Everyone sat around the large table outside, listening to the crickets chirp as the sun slowly set behind the rolling hills of Virginia.

"Oh, Mom, this looks delicious," Krista gushed after they all said grace. "Al, this sauce is amazing."

"I'm glad you're so enthused," Al replied with a grin on his face as he took a bite of his burger.

"Aunt Krista can get really excited," Kate said lowly to Ana, but playfully.

"She was excited when I got here," Ana replied, taking a sip of her tea.

"Well, no wonder. She thinks you're adorable!" Adorable? Ana thought to herself, and took another sip of tea.

"Natasha, sweetie, how is your arm?" Lydia asked Paul's wife, who's left arm was in a sling. Paul was helping her skin the rib meat from the bone.

"Oh, it's fine," Natasha replied. Her silky brown hair was pulled in a bun, but she looked as gorgeous as ever. Ana had always envied her beauty. Jules had called Paul hot, and Ana couldn't look at her step-uncle without thinking of her friend's words. "I feel like I'm five, though. Having to have my food cut up for me."

"But yet it is so sweet," Paul volunteered, and everyone laughed. Natasha kissed him and agreed.

"Please, not at the table," Kate said, appearing grossed out. "You're my _parents_."

"So?" Paul asked, taking a bite of his own ribs after finishing Natasha's.

"You. Are. My. Parents."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "And your point is, kid?"

Ana felt like she should interfere as Kate glared at her brother. "So, Krista, where are your kids. Michael, Deena, Tom?"

Krista finished her mouthful of food. "Michael is at an indoor soccer game. Deena has a cross country meet, and Tom is on an overnight Youth Group trip with his Dad. They wish they could be here," she ended sweetly. "They all really love spending time with you, Ana."

Ana smiled. "That's nice, thanks," she replied. "I wish they could be here too." Another lie. How many had she told tonight? It wasn't that she was a hateful person, she just didn't know Lydia's side of the family very well. Krista smiled back and took her hand for a brief moment. Weird.

* * *

Ana was glad dinner was over. It was well over 9:00, and she was ready to get the heck out. She said goodnight, hoping to make a quick exit, but ran into Lydia halfway up the stairs. "Hey," she said in her familiar accent.

"Hi, Lydia," Ana said.

"Going so soon?" she asked.

"Um, yeah, actually I'm really tired."

Lydia chuckled. "Oh, yes, of course. But, um, Tatiana, could I talk to you first? It must not be good if she used my full name, Ana thought, but she followed Lydia upstairs to her room. "Um, Ana, how's it going?"

"Good," Ana said evenly.

"Good? Good," Lydia replied. "School's fine? Life in general?"

"Yes, Lydia." Ana was starting to get agitated.

"Okay. Well, I just wanted to see if you were ok. You seemed a little...out, I should say, at dinner, and not talking much. I just wanted to know if there was something wrong. You seem somewhat...uncomfortable. Is that what it is?"

"Oh, no, Lydia, it's not that—''

"Is that what it is? Calling us on first name basis?" Lydia seemed very straightforward and anxious to get to the point. "Because if that's what it is, I have no problem whatsoever with you calling me Grandma. Or calling Krista Aunt, Paul Uncle...would it get a little better if you called us by that?"

Ana shifted from foot to foot. She felt like shouting, _No! I'm uncomfortable because I don't know you guys! And only my Grandma is my Grandma. You are Lydia. Krista is Krista, Paul is Paul!_ But instead of hurting Lydia's feelings, she agreed. "That might help. Thanks...Grandma," Ana said, giving a stiff, false smile.

Lydia hugged her briefly. "Well, alright them. Let's get the tension out of the air. Good night, honey," she said, and left the room.

Not good, Ana thought blankly, and fell back onto her bed with a heavy sigh.

* * *

Please review!


	8. Welcome to Sorrento

**8. Welcome to Sorrento**

Sophia wished she had brought a two-piece bathing suit. Because so far she had seen about 300 hot guys, and the water of Sorrento was beautiful. She couldn't help but stare out the window at the glistening cliffs of the beautiful Italian city. Soph had arrived yesterday, and her first art class had been that night. Jetlag overwhelmed her, and she fell asleep. The art teacher, Madam Massimo, already didn't like her. Sophia could barely understand her, either, since her Italian accent was so strong.

"Miss Paoli, what are you doing?" Madam Massimo's shrill voice brought Sophia out of her daydreaming.

"Whoa," Sophia said shakily after getting a good rap on the head from the art teacher. "I'm, uh, drawing."

"You are not drawing, Miss Paoli, you are daydreaming. Daydreaming is for silly girls. What do you get out of daydreaming? Hmm?"

Soph could feel her whole face getting red, and all the art students staring at her. "I don't know."

"Tell me, Miss Paoli!"

"I don't know," Sophia said louder. Madam Massimo stared down hard, casting Sophia's eyes away.

"You get nothing out of daydreaming, girl. Nothing. That is why we live in reality. You were sleeping through my class last night, you don't pay no attention today! If it were my decision I would have kicked you out then, but since it isn't, you stay." She tried to smack Sophia again, but she dodged. "Understand me?"

"Yes, Madam," Sophia said, not making eye contact. She looked down at her still life of a model of a cliff in Sorrento. It wasn't beautiful. It wasn't good. These next couple of weeks were going to suck.

Sophia collected her art supplies and sped out of the class as soon as it was over. She dodged people in the hallway, trying to run away, but a strong hand on her shoulder caused her to turn around halfway out the door. She stared into the eyes of a gorgeous boy—no, _definitely_ not a boy—a man. His eyes were deep and blue, his nose long, his lips curved into a smile. His hair hung above his eyebrows, a mix of brown and blonde.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," he said. His accent was Italian. Great. "I just couldn't keep up with you after class."

Sophia looked at him. "You're in my art class?" she asked dumbly. "I've never noticed you."

He chuckled. "Maybe it was because you fell asleep," he joked. But Soph didn't find it funny, and spun off in the other direction. "No, wait!" he called after her, and spun her around again. Her eyes were flaring. "I'm sorry. I was just making a joke."

"Well don't," she said, looking him up and down.

"My name is Roberto," he said. "Roberta Feluccia."

"Sophia Paoli," she replied. I'll talk to him, there is no one else, she thought. But boy, is he cute.

"Paoli? Are you Italian?"

Sophia nodded. "Italian and Greek. My mother is half Greek, and my father is full Italian."

Roberto smiled. "No wonder why you are so beautiful," he remarked. "Come take a walk on the shore with me," he insisted.

Sophia looked down at her peasant skirt, flip flops, and matching tunic top. Her art supplies were in her arms. "Oh, Roberto, I'm not dressed, and I have my things from class. And the only reason you want to walk with me is because I am 'beautiful', as you say. You don't even know me."

"Well, I would like to get to know you," Roberto said. "It's beautiful out. The sun is shining, the sea is calm and clear..."

"All right," Sophia agreed. "But not very long. I have something important to due later on." The Sisterhood of the Journal had decided to give the journal to Sophie first, since in the original sisterhood, Lena had gotten it first.

They walked out of the La Belle Art Institution courtyard, where they had been standing the whole time, and out onto a dirt road, leading out of the estate. Vineyards and orchards were on either side of them, the sea breeze flowing through Sophia's hair.

"So, Sophia Paoli, what is your favorite color?" Roberto asked.

"What is this, a trivia game?" Sophia asked, but she was smiling.

"I'm trying to get to know you better."

"Ah. Well then, it would have to be white."

Roberto looked at her curiously. "Why white?"

"Well, because. You can make any color out of white. It's like a wild card of the colors."

"Are you like a wild card?" Roberto asked.

Sophia smiled. "No, that's my friend, Carson. She's definitely a wild card."

"What color is she?" Roberto asked. "You say you are white, so what is she?"

Weird conversation, Sophia thought, but answered. "Carson is everything. She's a wild card. Jules is probably orange, very bright." Roberto laughed. "And Ana is...ah, I'm not sure. I guess she's a dark blue. She's deep."

Roberto nodded. "A deep color for a deep person."

* * *

It was nearly nightfall before the pair returned to the courtyards of their art school.

"I had a great time today getting to know you, Bella," Roberto said, smiling.

Sophia pointed at the door. "You aren't staying here at the dorms?"

Roberto shook his head. "No, my home isn't too far from here."

"Oh. Well, goodnight. And thank you for showing me around today," Sophia said, "it was beautiful."

"Just like you," Roberto said softly. "Ciao, Bella." He turned to leave, and as Sophia smiled after him, he turned around and shouted, "And welcome to Sorrento!"

Maybe this wasn't turning out to be a sucky summer after all.


	9. Jule's Summer Job

Hey, sorry it took a while to update! Thanks a million for all the reviews! Enjoy!

* * *

**  
9. Jules's Summer Job**

Jules sat on a barstool in the kitchen, tossing paper balls into the trashcan across the room. Well, at least trying. Most of them landed a couple feet away from the trashcan. Tibby walked in, carrying Rebecca in her arms. She took one look at the pile of paper and rolled her eyes.

"You really need to get a life, Jules," Tibby said, putting Rebecca in her highchair.

"I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth," Jules replied dully, tossing another ball of paper. It missed by an inch.

"You should try basketball. All teams need benchwarmers."

"Mom, would you stop?" Jules got off the barstool to hand Tibby Rebecca's baby food from the fridge. "I hate basketball. I hate group sports. I am not a group sport kinda girl. And I have a life. It might be sucky right now because all my friends ditched me and I have to baby-sit everyday, but nevertheless, it is a life."

"Do you want to add in your broke to your 'My Life Sucks' list?" Tibby asked, as Rebecca giggled in her highchair.

"It isn't funny, Rebecca," Jules replied, "Mom is a bad influence. She has streaks of blue in her hair!"

Tibby touched her hair and smiled. Bridget, Lena, and Carmen dyed her hair with streaks for her birthday, like they had done when they were sixteen. "Oh, here I thought you'd be interested in a summer job." Tibby got up, went to her purse, and pulled of a folded flyer.

Jules took it, her eyes following the print. "You want me to work at McDonald's?" she asked plainly.

"Well, its extra cash," Tibby reasoned. "So, yeah, it would get you out of the house."

"You. Want. Me. To. Work. With. Other. People."

Tibby blinked. "Yeah. It would move you up on the social scale."

Jules took the paper up to her room. "Fine. I'll go wallow in self pity and try to get used to the visor. I'll go put on my Disneyland one."

But when she got up to her room, she went straight to her computer to email Carson, Ana, and Sophia. Sophia probably wouldn't get it until she came back, Carson too, but she didn't care. Ana would answer.

**_To:_ _"Ana __"Carson Richman"_ _"Sophia Paoli"_ **

_From: "Jules Quillis" _ I wish I could be with you guys but I'm stuck here working at McDonald's  


_Hey Dudes, Guess What? _

Juliet gets to work at McDonald's! Won't that be fun? Just to let you know, I was being sarcastic, but you all can think otherwise (I know you will, Civic). Anyway, Mom got me the job because she thinks it will raise me on the social scale. I am social enough. And she says it is another thing to add on my sucky life list. She has one, too! And I always get teased by it. Natalie is only 13, I wish she was a year older that way she could get a job! Hannah isn't even 9, dang it! And we won't even say anything about Rebecca.

_So, Carson, how's soccer treating you? Find any hot guys? No, I already know the answer to that. Of COURSE you did. And guess what, you are going to get that guy to. Your ex-boyfriend Jack will be on his hands and knees begging for you back when he sees you've gotten blonder, tanner, even better built, and with a hot soccer player at your side. _

_Soph, I know you've met a hot Italian. So dish, what is his name? And if you haven't, find one! Take as many pictures as you can and remember to say I'm the coolest, nicest, most gorgeous person you know (yeah, right). And take pictures of Italy in general. But don't forget the guy in the bathing suit. If you get lucky, it'll be a Speedo. wink wink. I am a loser. But ya love me anyway. And hurry up and send that journal! We're all getting restless!_

_Ana, darling cough (j/k) how is Virginia treating you? Are you being nice to everyone? How are Paul and Krista? Better or worse than you remember? I'm just kidding again. What about your cousins? Have you met a hot guy yet? Find one for me. I guess I'll find one at McDonald's. Won't that be so fun? I'd rather be anywhere but here._

_Okay, I don't know if any of you will get this until you get back, but it's worth a shot. I will send a picture of my uniform. I will be your laughing stock once again. _

_Love you all,_

_Jules

* * *

_"And this is your uniform," Louis, the manager, said to Jules a couple days later. They stood in the office room, where Jules had gone over everything from working the cash register to being polite to the guests. And now the dreaded part: uniforms. "Come one, Juliet, put it on," Louis said.

"The name is _Jules_," Jules said, frustrated, as she stuck on the visor and pulled the shirt on over her tank top. "There you go. Where am I working?"

"Oh, uh, you'll be doing register," Louis said casually.

Jules's jaw dropped. "What? This is my first day here!"

"And we're going to see if your natural! This way," he led her out of the room to register 5. Good thing the line wasn't busy, because if it had been, Jules would have had a heart attack. "Here. I'll log you in, and I think you can take it from here. There you go! And if you need any help, as Mr. David Fresner, he'll be happy to assist you. Good luck!" Louis bounded off, leaving Jules staring at the register, dumbfounded.

"Don't worry, I was like that when I was here for the first day," David Fresner said next to her. Jules looked at him. His blonde hair looked sexy hanging by his eyes, and his brown eyes looked deep and sensitive. She liked him already. Was it common to see a blonde haired brown eyed guy?

"How many years have you worked here?" Jules asked.

"Oh, this is my second week. I'm a senior, looking for some summer adventure," he replied. He looked at the man in front of him. "What can I get for you?"

"A number six, with a Diet Pepsi," the man replied.

Wow, he's a natural, Jules thought. She turned to the lady in front of her, and timidly said, "Hey, how's it going?"

"Good, thanks," the woman replied dully. She looked like the person who never ate at McDonald's. She's coming to celebrate my calling, Jules thought stupidly. "I will take a medium cheeseburger and a small drink," she said.

"Is that all?" I asked, ringing it up. She shook her head. "Your total is $2.89." She handed me a five, and I gave her back her change. I quickly loaded her tray, and she left without a single thank you.

"Not bad, Newbie," David said, filling up a tray. "I think McDonald's just might be your calling."


	10. Carson's Competition

**10. Carson's Competition**

Carson and Olivia passed the ball back and forth underneath the hot summer sun on the soccer field. Olivia wasn't as near as good as Carson, often missing her completely while passing, but Carson was too relaxed and laid-back to care. Suddenly the coach's whistle blew, and the Orange Team gathered around.

"Okay, girls, our first scrimmage is in two days," Coach Baker said. "I plan to dominate the Blue team. They are the first ones to go. I've been observing them. Their players are weak and can't run as near as hard as you can."

"Are you paid to say that?"

The voice came from a snobby, but gorgeous, tan, blonde haired soccer player wearing her orange jersey hanging on her neck. The coach stared her down. "Hackman, take a lap," she said. Adrian Hackman rolled her eyes but started jogging. "And sprint it!" the coach yelled after her, but Adrian showed no sign of speeding up. She turned back to her team. "Okay, gang, go get dinner. I plan to have a midnight practice. It's optional, but fun. Orange on three." Everyone put there hands in the middle and chanted,

"One, two, three, ORANGE!"

Nadia caught up with Carson as she walked toward the dining facility. "Hey, girlfriend."

Carson smiled. "What's up?"

"I know all about Tom Lancy," she said slyly. Carson looked at her sharply.

"What are you talking about?"

"Tom Lancy, eh?" A voice behind them said. They turned, and saw Adrian Hackman standing there. Even with her sprint around the field, it hadn't caused a single flyaway on her head or a sweat.

"What's it to you?" Nadia asked, but there was no friendliness in her eyes.

"Oh, nothing, really." She smiled. "He just happened to be my boyfriend."

"Whatever," Carson waved off and started walking.

Adrian fell in step with her. "In denial, huh? That's you. Go ask him. He's a freshman here, hoping to play for Madrid someday."

"What an accomplishing goal," Carson said sarcastically. It was something Jules would have said.

"I think you are heading in on my territory, Richman," Adrian said, flipping her hair.

"Excuse me, but what is Tom doing with _you_?" Nadia asked.

Adrian's eyes went cold. "Now, come on, Nad," Carson tried to reason. She really didn't want a fight to start. Sure, she had gotten in plenty on the soccer field (her father trying to stop them and her mother cheering her on), but she didn't want on at that moment.

"I don't know," she said, twirling her hair. "Maybe you should ask him. Here he comes now."

Sure enough, a gorgeous Tom was walking toward them. He looked especially hot and enchanting with the sunset behind him. Adrian practically jumped into his arms, and Frenched him in front of everyone. He was shocked, but to Carson's dismay, she could tell he was kissing her back. The kiss lasted nearly a minute, and ended when Nadia cleared her throat.

"Oh, hey Richman, nice going out there," Tom complimented. Carson smiled. Adrian observed, and slithered her arm around Tom's waist protectively. He didn't move his arm around her, making Carson smile even wider.

"Thanks," she said, swaying on her tiptoes. "Glad you noticed."

Adrian was fuming at the obvious flirtation Carson was causing. She butted in. "Hey, Tom, do you wanna go grab a bite to eat?"

He looked sheepish. "I, uh, actually have some English homework that I didn't finish. I just came over here to tell you. But I promise that I will tomorrow. Homework or no homework."

Adrian half-smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, then twirled it around her finger. In a puppy-dog voice she said, "You're going to ditch me for homework, Thomas?"

He pulled her in his arms. "I'm not ditching you. But I really need to get past this semester. Tomorrow, I promise."

Adrian looked at Carson out of the corner of her eye, who was standing there beside Nadia, trying not to break out in a fight. "Alright, but give me a ring afterwards. I have midnight practice. So I'll be up, all night." She giggled, and he kissed her.

"Gotta go," he said, touching her shoulder. "Bye, Richman. See ya...person I don't know." He smiled.

"Nadia," Nadia volunteered dully. Obviously, the whole conversation and Adrian's antics had annoyed her. Tom turned and left, and Adrian flipped her hair, grinning.

"Well, sorry Carrie," she said. And she left. More like walked sluttily away.

"It's Carson, you idiot!" Carson shouted out after her. She shook her head, and turned to Nadia, who was fuming. "I really don't like her."

Nadia scoffed. "I don't think there is one person at this camp who likes her."

"Except for Tom."

Nadia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, except for Tom."

"Oh, boy," she replied as they walked into the dining facility. Adrian had joined her group of friends and they were all giggling girlishly. "Make me hurl," Carson said as she passed them to get her food. From the "wide variety of choices", she chose macaroni and cheese. Nadia chose a burger, and grabbed them both a bottle of water. They sat down at a table the window and ate quietly.

"So, where are you from?" Nadia asked, taking a bite.

"Um, Bethesda, Maryland," Carson replied. "I've lived there my whole life. Where are you from?"

"Tucson."

"Interesting." Carson stole a look over at Adrian's table. A couple were talking, while the rest were staring at her. Oh, great, Carson thought, she has an army.


	11. The Journal Is Off

Sorry it took so long to update, school is crazy and so is soccer! And it is short, like most of the chapters will be, but here it is!

* * *

**11. The Journal Is Off**

Sophia yawned, opening her eyes. Beautiful sunlight streamed through her window, overlooking the rocky sea and coast. It was a beautiful, cloudless day. This day will be perfect, Soph thought, until she looked at her clock. It read 8:45.

"Oh my God!" Sophia nearly screamed, reading the clock. She opened her drawer, flinging out her art school uniform. She pulled on the plaid skirt, white collared shirt, v-neck sweater over it, and knee-high socks. Half of her shirt was hanging out from her vest, and one sock was higher than the other. Her beautiful, dark curly hair was a mess, so she pulled it up in a high ponytail. She needed to wash her face, but the most she could do was splash water. She flung her bowling-style shoes on, grabbed her bag (filled with her art tools) and flung it over her shoulder, and ran out the door.

The corridor of the dorms were empty. La Belle Art Institution was small, and only 100 students or so came a summer. But the cost was amazingly high, so therefore everyone could have their own small dorm. Sophia raced down the hall, bag flying behind her, and even used the stairs to get to Room 11, where her first class was. She flew open the door, and every person in the room looked at her. Including Madam Massimo, whose lips had gone into a straight line, and her eyes cold.

"Miss Paoli, you are late," she said evenly.

Sophia took her seat toward the back of the room. She caught Roberto's eyes, and as he smiled, she blushed.

"Miss Paoli!" she snapped. "When you come into my class late, you immediately start on your still life's. What do you see here on this table?"

Sophia looked at the table Madam Massimo was standing by. It was a paper mache model of the Sorrento cliffs, painted and everything. "It's Sorrento," she replied.

"Very good. Now I want you to draw what you see, not what you think should be there. Now get to work. I'm timing everyone!"

Sophia stepped back to examine her work. Her lines were smooth but at the same time edgy. She knew Madam Massimo wouldn't like that. And when she was done evaluating it, she smiled. "Very good, Sophia. I think you are at a good start."

Sophia gawked at her. "A good start? I'm finished!"

Madame Massimo did a double take between the paper and her student. "You are far from done, Miss Paoli! Much too far for my taste. Sit down and look at the sculpture. From where you sit, the orange paper represents the line on yours. You drew this cliff and it didn't need to be drawn because you can't see the end of it. Do you see what I mean?"

Sophia sideways glanced at the paper. "I guess," she replied.

"Well, when we get back from lunch, you will come straight back and finish it."

"It's already lunch?"

"We've been working for three and a half hours," Massimo replied. "You haven't been looking at the clock?" Sophia shook her head. "Well I like students who don't always look at the clock.

"Sophia," Roberto said, and Soph turned around.

"Roberto, hi," Sophia replied, smiling. As a greeting, he kissed her on both cheeks.

"You came to class late today?"

Sophia blushed. "I slept in. I didn't know how to set my alarm."

Roberto laughed. "You Americans are very funny."

Soph raised her eyebrows. "I happen to be half Italian, thank you! My father is from Tuscany."

Roberto sat down at a local café, and Sophia joined him. "Tuscany is a beautiful place. Have you been there?"

Sophia eyes glanced him. "Of course I have. It is a beautiful place." Then she grinned. "Drinks all around!"

_Dear Carson,_

_Well, the fist victim of the Traveling Journal. Hope it gets to you quick. So how's it going at soccer camp? Find any hot babes? No, I already know the answer to that. Probably about twenty!_

_Well, I've found mine. His name is Roberto, and he is gorgeous. His hair is so shiny, his eyes so deep. Sorry that I'm sounding like a hopeless romantic. Who knows? Maybe I could turn out to be one?_

_And as it turns out, I hate my art "academy". Why should they call it that? My teacher, Madame Massimo (such a big word for a little woman!), is such a hateful person and her Italian accent is so thick sometimes I can barely understand her. But Sorrento is beautiful. It's even more beautiful than I imagined it would be. The waves are loud and blue, the sky a never-ending stretch._

_Ha ha, now I'm sounding like a poet. But that is me, isn't it?_

_So, how is Santa Maria? I'm sure I asked you that. I miss you so much. I wish all of us could be here, getting great tans and great guys. How good does that sound? Poor Jules, we should have forced her to go somewhere. (Sigh…)_

_Well, I better go. Here are some pictures I took. The first one is of Roberto, isn't he gorgeous? The second one is an outside view of the academy, and last...uh...ten or so is the Sorrento coast. _

_Love you forever,_

_Sophia _


End file.
